


Summer Storm

by Anteros



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/Anteros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Silly, silly, silly smut.  And a prize for spotting the two plagiarisms ;)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Summer Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Silly, silly, silly smut. And a prize for spotting the two plagiarisms ;)

**I**

“Come!” The captain’s voice reverberated round the great cabin as Hornblower entered.

“Sir!” Hornblower saluted smartly and precisely and waited for the captain to lay down his quill. Captain Sir Edward Pellew was seated at his desk, which was almost entirely obscured by piles of letters, documents and ledgers.

“Ah Hornblower! The very man!” Pellew threw down his pen and thumped the surface of the desk jovially. A pile of log books teetered precariously. “I require your services sir. I have just received an urgent despatch from the Port Admiral. A most serious matter has arisen, one of considerable importance to this ship.”

“Sir?” Hornblower lifted an eyebrow in polite enquiry.

Pellew’s mouth quirked into a smile as he handed the lieutenant a heavy envelope marked with the Port Admiral’s seal.

Hornblower opened the envelope and pulled out a large thick card, palest rose with an embossed gilt border. The distinct perfume of violets wafted through the cabin. Hornblower gazed in mute astonishment at the scented missive.

“Well man? You can read can’t you Mr Hornblower? What say you?”

Hornblower cleared his throat in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal his bewilderment.

“Forgive me sir, this appears to be an invitation from...”

"...from the Port Admiral’s wife.” Pellew spared the bemused lieutenant his obvious embarrassment. “An invitation requesting and requiring the attendance of the officers of His Majesty’s Ship _Indefatigable_ at a soiree in honour of their daughters Misses Anne, Elizabeth and Harriet Onslow.”

“A...a...soiree, sir?” Hornblower’s palms were starting to sweat uncomfortably.

“Yes Hornblower, a soiree. Surely you have not been at sea for so long that you have forgotten what a soiree is?”

At a loss as to how to respond Hornblower nodded uncertainly.

“Sadly duty detains me,” the captain continued, sweeping his hand over the documents littering his desk. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure that to attend to Lady Onslow and her undoubtedly charming daughters, but alas I am plagued by this infernal paperwork.”

The captain’s desk was indeed gunwales under with musters, legers, inventories, reports, letters and despatches. However from his wry expression and the fine decanter of Lisbon at his elbow, Hornblower was under no illusion as to which duty the captain regarded as more onerous.

“Indeed, sir.” Hornblower nodded nervously, still uncertain where the interview was heading. “I am sure the Admiral will understand that duty prevents you from attending to social engagements.”

Pellew grimaced slightly before adopting a more serious tone. “You see this Hornblower? Do you know what this is?” The captain held up a large document covered with lists, columns and figures. “This is an inventory from the carpenter, itemising the ship’s refitting requirements. I take it I need not remind you, lieutenant, that despite what Sir Richard Onslow seems to think, we are actually here to refit this ship, not to entertain the young ladies of Portsmouth.

“Sir?” Hornblower was lost. He could see no connection between the Port Admiral’s daughter and the _Indefatigable_ ’s refit inventory.

“Honestly man, do I have to spell it out for you?” Hornblower was mortified to find himself being addressed in the tone the captain reserved for the most blockheaded of the midshipmen. “With these damned unseasonal gales knocking the fleet about I’ll wager there’s barely a topmast left in any of the yards from here to Hamoaze. Refitting could take weeks, unless the Port Admiral intervenes on our behalf. The old boy dotes on his daughters...”

“Ah.” Realisation, closely followed by panic, was starting to dawn on Hornblower.

“So Mr Hornblower your orders are to proceed to shore, attend the Admiral’s soiree, present your compliments and my apologies to Lady Onslow and her daughters, impress upon the young ladies the fine quality of the officers of the _Indefatigable_ and ensure that Sir Richard appreciates that we are at his service. Oh and see that you make a good impression man.” Pellew eyed his lieutenant like a hawk. “The fate of this ship rest on the cut of your jib!”

“Aye...aye, sir”, Hornblower stuttered. His mouth had turned to ashes. He would rather have faced the Combined Fleet in a jolly boat, than the Port Admiral’s wife and daughters at a soiree.

“Oh and Hornblower, take Acting Lieutenant Kennedy with you. Port Admiral or no, I’m not having my officers parading around Portsmouth soirees without back up. You have permission to take my gig. I expect you both back on board by the fore noon watch tomorrow. Dismissed Mr Hornblower.”

“Sir.” Hornblower saluted limply and beat a hasty retreat.

Hornblower had almost reached the door and blessed escape when the captain called him back.

“Aren’t you forgetting something Mr Hornblower? Your orders sir!” He turned to find the captain proffering the Admiral's invitation with an expression of barely concealed mirth.

Hornblower took the pink scented card, saluted stiffly and departed.

* * *

**II**

“For heaven’s sake, hold still will you?” Kennedy peered irritably over Hornblower’s shoulder, his shipmate’s reflection scowled back at him from the glass.

“I know you wish to impress the young ladies, but honestly Horatio, now is not the time for practising your dancing.”

Hornblower was fidgeting impatiently, hopping from one foot to the other in a fine semblance of a lively jig.

“But the captain said Archie….”

“I know what the captain said Horatio, but the captain is not trying to tie your bloody queue! Honestly, it’s a task worthy of Sisyphus.” Kennedy gave the wayward queue a sharp tug, causing Hornblower to yelp indignantly. His scowl darkened. Kennedy ignored his companion’s black looks and continued wrestling with the recalcitrant curls. At last, after expending some effort and no little patience, he stood back to admire his handiwork.

“There,” he said, “you’ll do.”

Fidgeting self-consciously with the front of his dress jacket, Hornblower turned to face Kennedy.

“How do I look?” he asked anxiously.

Kennedy stepped back and cast a critical eye over Lieutenant Hornblower. There was no denying that Hornblower wore the blue well. The effect was impressive. The pristine white breeches, cut narrow in the latest fashion, showed off his long shanks to their best advantage; the well cut jacket with its glittering buttons and snowy white lapels fitted his broad shoulders and narrow waist to perfection, and the carefully tied black silk neckerchief set off his dark brows dramatically. He presented a fine picture of a gentleman and an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.

Kennedy had to exert all his will to fight back a devilish smirk. He eyed Hornblower seriously, “Well...” he said, picking a spec of imaginary fluff from the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I certainly wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

“Archie!” Hornblower’s frown deepened, “be serious. Need I remind you that the captain impressed upon us the importance of making the very best impression on the Admiral and his...his family.”

“I’m sorry Horatio, you look very fine, very fine indeed. You are a credit to your captain, your ship, indeed to His Majesty King George himself, God bless him.” Archie was waxing lyrical now. “You are the very height of...”

“Alright Archie!” Hornblower snapped. “That’s enough. There’s no need for sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry Horatio, you really do look quite the picture.” Archie almost succeeded in looking contrite. “Just one thing,” he stepped forward and pressed one finger lightly to the deep furrows that lined Hornblower’s brows. “This,” he said. Horatio could feel Archie’s breath warm on his cheek as his finger traced a smooth arc along the curve of his brow.

“You look like you are about to face a court martial, not a drawing room full of young ladies. Stop frowning. You will scare the living daylights out of them if you storm into their company with a face like thunder. Smile Mr Hornblower! They wont bite you know, and if they do, they will have me to answer to.”

Archie kissed Horatio on the cheek and his features softened for an instant.

“Sorry Archie, you’re right, although I swear I would rather face the noose than the Port Admiral’s daughters. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I offend their sensibilities? What if the Admiral takes umbridge that I have offended his precious creatures?” Hornblower had started to pace the room in long rapid strides, his dress sword swinging wildly against his hip. “We could be stuck here for weeks waiting to refit! What will the captain do if...”

“Don’t you think you’re rather jumping the gun Horatio? You haven’t actually offended the young ladies yet. Though if we stand here dawdling much longer we most certainly will.” Kennedy caught Hornblower on his next traverse and steered him towards the door. “Come on Mr Hornblower time to gird your loins, we must be off.”

Hornblower leapt for the door and bounded down the stairs two at a time leaving Kennedy to hurry behind in his wake. Just as he caught up, Hornblower came to an abrupt halt. Kennedy barrelled into the back of him and narrowly avoided sending them both tumbling down the stairs.

“Careful there Horatio...” he began, but Hornblower silenced him with a fierce hiss.

“Ssshh Archie! Listen!” Horatio was standing stock still, listening intently.

Kennedy stopped, listened, but heard nothing. He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“What do you hear Archie?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all, only the rain.”

“Exactly! It’s raining.”

Kennedy regarded his companion with an expression that clearly suggested he had taken leave of his senses. “It’s Portsmouth Horatio,” he said calmly, “in case you hadn’t noticed, it always rains in Portsmouth.”

“I know that!” Hornblower snapped, “But I haven’t brought my cloak. If this keeps up we’ll be soaked by the time we reach the Admiral’s house.”

Hornblower had reached the door of the inn and was standing staring disconsolately out at the rain that had come shrieking down from the west in unbelievable contrast to the delightful weather of only half an hour before. The driving rain had already turned the muddy macadam into a thick mire.

“Perhaps we could order a carriage?” he suggested doubtfully.

“A carriage?” Kennedy scoffed, “the Admiral’s house is just round the corner, and besides, if we wait for a carriage we really shall be late.”

“But we’ll get drenched! A fine impression we’ll make if we turn up on the Admiral’s door step looking like a pair of drowned bilge rats!”

“Perhaps we could ask the innkeeper to borrow a couple of cloaks?” Kennedy suggested helpfully.

Hornblower was calling for the innkeeper before the words were out of Archie’s mouth. Impatience made him imperious, and the landlord was clearly unimpressed at being addressed in such a high-handed manner. He frowned, scratched his chin thoughtfully before ambling away unhurriedly. By the time he returned, carrying what appeared to be a bundle of stained and crumpled tarpaulin, Hornblower had worked himself into a frenzy.

“Sorry gentlemen,” the landlord explained unapologetically, “this is the best I could do.” He held up a single tattered boat cloak, patched with stains and smelling suspiciously of fish.

“I can’t wear that!” Hornblower stared at the thing aghast. “What will the Admiral say if I turn up on his door step looking like a damned wherry man?”

“Suit yourself, sir,” the landlord sniffed less than deferentially, “’Fraid it’s that or nothing.”

“We’ll take it,” interrupted Kennedy, stepping forward to take the evil smelling oilcloth from the innkeeper and pressing a shilling into his hand in exchange. “Thank you for your assistance sir, we are much obliged.”

Pointedly ignoring Hornblower, the innkeeper smiled and bowed to Kennedy. “Thank you sir, thank you kindly.”

“You’re not seriously going to wear that thing are you?” Hornblower demanded as the innkeeper departed. “You’ll look like something the press dragged in. And it smells.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Horatio, stop making such a fuss!” Kennedy threw the tarpaulin over his shoulders and held one corner up, inviting Hornblower to duck underneath.

Horatio rolled his eyes in disgust and, setting his cocked hat firmly on his head, strode out into the rain.

* * *

**III**

Kennedy’s dead reckoning was somewhat off, the Admiral’s house was in fact round several corners and by the time they arrived Hornblower was thoroughly drenched. The footman who opened the door regarded them with an icy glare and ushered them into an immaculate hallway. He glowered disapprovingly at the puddle pooling around Hornblower’s muddy shoes before turning to Kennedy. “May I take your...”, he stopped and regarded the filthy canvas draped over Archie’s shoulders, “your cloak sir?”

“Why thank you!” Kennedy replied brightly, sweeping the cloak from his shoulders in a flamboyant gesture, as if it was the very pinnacle of fashion. The footman acknowledged Archie’s thanks with a curt nod and gingerly received the stained and dripping object.

On entering the elegant drawing room, Hornblower was somewhat relieved to notice several more drenched naval officers, a clutch of woefully bedraggled Light Dragoons and a cavalry captain whose magnificent plume was limp and dripping. Clearly they were not the only ones to be caught short by the sudden downpour. Still, Hornblower was painfully aware of the way his sopping breeches clung to his thighs and he thanked heaven for small mercies that the tails of his dress coat hid his uncomfortably damp rear from view. He was trying not to squirm inside his wet breeches, and ignore the water trickling down his neck inside his collar, when he felt a sharp jab in his ribs.

“Smile,” hissed Kennedy who was standing by his side smiling brightly. Several of the young ladies were already casting admiring glances in his direction, though whether that was due to his charming smile or the fact that he was noticeably less bedraggled than the other gentlemen, Hornblower could not be certain.

“Come on Mr Hornblower,” Archie whispered at his side. “No sense in hanging back, fortune favours the bold!” And with that he seized Horatio by the elbow and propelled him into the throng.

* * *

**IV**

By the time they left the Port Admiral’s house much later that evening, Hornblower was in high spirits. The rain was still teaming down but he paid it little heed. Kennedy had retrieved his questionable outer garment from the disdainful footman as they departed and was hurrying along in Hornblower’s wake, dodging the filthy torrents flowing through the streets, while trying to keep up with his companion’s long strides.

“Well Mr Kennedy,” Hornblower announced, “our campaign has been a success! I do believe we can report to Captain Pellew that we have achieved a notable victory. We carried out our orders admirably!”

“We?” Archie spluttered from beneath the dripping cloak which he was holding above his head like a tarpaulin, which in fact, it was. “We? You barely went near the young ladies all evening! Unless I am mistaken you spent the whole bloody night at the card table. I’ll see you court martialed for dereliction of duty sir!”

“Not at all Mr Kennedy, I do not deny that I took up station at the card table, but that is where the Port Admiral happened to be posted. And by helping him to fleece a brace of Dragoon captains, I have secured not only his thanks but also his word that the _Indefatigable_ will be refitted with the utmost despatch. And anyway,” Horatio continued, striding through the rain, “I knew I could rely on you to keep the weather gage on the young ladies.”

Mercifully, the rain drowned out the acting lieutenant’s response.

* * *

**V**

The torrential downpour did little to dampen Hornblower’s ebullient spirits and when they arrived back at the inn he bounded up the stairs as quickly as he’d descended earlier that evening. The shilling that Kennedy had pressed into the landlord's hand before they left had ensured that a blazing fire was burning in the grate and they wasted no time in peeling off their soaking outer garments. Kennedy flung the malodorous boat cloak into the corner where it settled in a pool of murky water. A perfect arc of droplets on the floor marked the trajectory of Hornblower’s hat, which he threw across the room onto the settle beneath the window. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, briefly lamenting the fact that his best dress had been reduced to a sopping rag.

“Look at you!” Archie exclaimed. “You look as though you’ve just rounded the Cape in a hurricane.” He pushed a perfect dripping curl off Horatio’s brow and ran his fingers through the sheen of rain that silvered his cheek. “I swear you get thrice as wet as the rest of humanity Horatio.”

As if to prove a point Horatio shook is head like a dog and showered Archie with a cascade of spray.

“Carefully Horatio,” Archie chided, “I’ve made it home high and dry, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t soak me now!”

“No?” One corner of Hornbower’s mouth lifted into a dangerous smirk.

The invitation wasn’t lost on Archie. He pushed Horatio back against the door, one hand reaching behind him to turn the key in the lock, the other sliding down over the front of your breeches.

“You’re wet.” Archie’s voice was low in his ear. Horatio attempted to respond, but only managed a hoarse growl of want and assent.

“Soaked to the skin.” Archie continued, his hand moving over the clinging fabric. “Better get these off before you catch your death.”

Deft hands were working at the placket of Horatio’s breeches and then Archie was on his knees in front of him. He felt the cold wet fabric peeling away, the caress of Archie’s breath deliciously warm on his skin. A trickle of water traced a course down his thigh, Archie’s lips following it, until it disappeared into the crumpled folds of his breeches. Archie’s breath was hotter now, his warm hand smoothing along the length of him. Horatio closed his eyes anticipating the searing kisses that would follow. Instead he was rudely interrupted by Archie rocking back on his heels and dissolving into fits of laughter.

“What...?” began Horatio, barely regaining his senses.

“I’m sorry Horatio, you’re dripping everywhere, I’m kneeling in a puddle here! I’m not paying good money for a room only to kneel in the wet. We can enjoy that kind of luxury in the hold. Come on.” Archie rose to his feet and pulled Horatio over to the bed where they stripped in short order and dived beneath the covers.

Archie hit the bed first and Horatio landed squarely on top of him. Archie was easily solid enough to bear his companions full weight but this time he gasped. “Bloody hell Horatio you’re freezing!” He ran his hands down Horatio’s back and over his buttocks. “Your arse feels like ice.”

“Are you going to do something about it then?” Horatio smirked.

Archie winced. “Really Mr Hornblower I have a good mind kick you back out into the rain. You certainly deserve it.”

But with Horatio pressing hard and urgent against him, and those fathomless brown eyes gazing down, dark with desire, Archie had little will and less inclination to carry out his threat. Horatio’s mouth was at his throat now, wet curls strewn across his face and that maddening pressure pushing against him. Somehow Horatio’s hand was beneath him, parting and pressing. A flare of fear and want flickered up Archie’s spine. Horatio’s slender torso was pinning him down with a strength that could hardly be imagined. There was a time, when the force of Horatio’s naked desire had caught Archie aback and pushed him to the brink of the darkness. But not now, not anymore, now they were equal in trust and desire. Archie dug his fingers hard into Horatio’s arse and met him force with force, neither surrendering nor retreating.

The rain continued to beat down in torrents, hammering on the rooftops, drowning out the sounds from the street below and the room above. Safe in the cacophony of the downpour, Archie, silent by long habit, heard his voice pleading and begging, as Horatio bore down and on him until they were both overwhelmed by a torrent want and release.

It was still raining when their breath stilled. Horatio had rolled on to his side, one leg lying heavy over Archie’s hip, dark curls strewn across his face. He lay still and silent, oblivious to everything but the mesmerising sound of the rain and the weight and the warmth of the man by his side. He exhaled a long breath and shook his head slightly to dislodge the damp curls still entangled in his lips. Horatio stirred by his side and opened one eye.

“Horatio.”

“Hmn.”

“Horatio?”

“Hmn?”

“Do you think you could move?”

“Hmmn?”

“Shift Horatio! I’m lying in a wet patch.”

“Archie!” Horatio was suddenly awake and affronted. “Must you be so crude?”

“Excuse me Mr Hornblower, but your wet hair has dripped all over the pillow here and I have no desire to wake tomorrow with a stiff neck.”

“No indeed Mr Kennedy,” Horatio’s lips curved into a lazy smirk, “We can’t have you waking up stiff in the morning.”

* * *

**VI**

Downstairs in the first floor parlour the landlord, clearing up after his guests, was startled by a dull thud from above, the rain beat against the window in a furious gust and the wind crying in the eaves sounded uncannily like laughter. The landlord frowned and shook his head. These summer storms played havoc with the old roof, he’d go out and check the slates in the morning.

* * *

**Notes**

Sir Richard Onslow was Commander in Chief at Plymouth (not Portsmouth) between 1796 and 1798. He did actually have three daughters named Anne, Elizabeth and Harriet and also a fourth daughter, Frances, who married Sir Hyde Parker in 1800.


End file.
